


A Drarry Christmas

by Saraste



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Domestic, Established Relationship, Family, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Shameless kitchen shenanigans, Snow, silliness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-02 16:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16790740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: A collection of 24 (at least) separate drarry ficlets written with prompts fromthis list of winter prompts on tumblr.Unbeta'd.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's snowed overnight and Harry wants Draco to go explore it with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 1. come out in the snow with me.

The little garden around the cottage and the countryside beyond had been covered overnight with a blanket of invitingly soft-looking snow, that was what Harry noticed when he looked outside from their second-storey bedroom window that morning, bare feet planted on the somewhat chilly floorboards. He smiled in delight and then glanced back at the bed, at the rumpled sheets and the padded quilt and the stretched-out figure of the body lying underneath it all. He dove back under the covers with a grin.

Draco shrieked, startled awake from his almost-awake slumbering, he hated mornings, especially on the weekend. ‘Cold feet! What have I bloody said about cold feet, Potter?’

Harry pressed a kiss where his lips landed, which happened to be a spot of skin just behind Draco’s ear, where he was ticklish and squirmed away, sleep-heavy hands pushing at Harry. ‘That I should wear socks?’ Harry offered.

They scuffled a bit and Draco ended on top, looking down at Harry, all sleep-mussed and indignant in his striped pyjamas, the top button of which was now open, showing an inviting sliver of pale skin. He was shaking a finger at Harry. ‘You wretched man!’ But his eyes were laughing.

Harry reached and Draco let himself be drawn down for a kiss that lingered and lingered on until they were breathless and no-one’s feet, or any other part for that matter, were at all cold any longer.

‘Come out with me, it’s snowed in the night,’ Harry said after they’d kissed their fill and stoked lazy morning lust into flame.

Draco was curled against his side, his striped pyjamas gone and head resting on Harry’s shoulder, Harry’s arm around him. ‘But it’ll be cold! And we have not even had our breakfast yet!’ He burrowed deeper under the blankets. Their cottage might be picturesque and delightfully out of the way, but it did get a bit cold during the winter.

‘Well, after breakfast,’ Harry amended, tapping a lazy rhythm on Draco’s shoulder, ‘it looks really nice.’

‘If you insist,’ Draco finally huffed, ‘but you’re making breakfast first, you hear?’

‘As if I wouldn’t.’

‘And no snow-balls!’

‘Spoil sport.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this was: "Want some cocoa?"
> 
> Not intentionally set in the same verse as the last one, but could be.

Draco stormed into the kitchen through the backdoor leading into their little back garden, stomping his feet and shaking snow from his collar. ‘That child of yours is a menace!’ he declared, face red and whole body squirming as he fought to extricate what seemed to be snow melting inside his shirt.

Harry paused in his stirring at the stove and leaned his hip onto the counter next to it, and fought not to laugh at the pitiful sight his husband made. A child’s pealing laughter could be heard from outside where Draco hadn’t shut the door properly. ‘She’s your daughter too, you know,’ he reminded Draco, one hand idly stirring the stew they were having for lunch in less than an hour.

He was rewarded with a patented Malfoy face of utter betrayal and disgust. ‘Not when she insists on showing snow under my collar, she’s not.’ Draco had by now wriggled out of his coat and scarf, kicked off his boots, and was squirming to get the last of the melting snow from under his shirt before it melted, grappling with his jumper.

Harry glanced at his secret weapon already laid onto the side, the three cups were still steaming gently, just about right to drink now, he thought. He put the stew on low heat and went to Draco, helping him with his stuck jumper, a deep green with a big silver D on front. Draco appeared from it looking very disgruntled indeed. Harry kissed his red nose, which just made Draco scrunch it in dislike. ‘Don’t think you’re forgiven just like that,’ he said, ‘her bad behaviour is all your fault.’

‘Of course it is,’ Harry said, like he always did, and wound his hands around Draco to hug him close and kiss him to his cold lips. Draco let him, as Harry knew he would.

‘I’d like to see you liking it when she does the same to you,’ Draco crumbled when they came apart.

‘Do you want some hot chocolate?’ Harry asked instead of saying anything else that might aggravate the situation further.

‘YES,’ was Draco’s fervent and predictable reply and he began extricating himself from Harry, zeroing in on the ready poured mugs on the counter, a little akin to a bloodhound.

Harry went to the still ajar kitchen back door and stuck his head out, smiling at the snowy scenery and the snowlady their daughter was building, her blonde hair sticking out from under her knit-cap. ‘Cassie, come have hot chocolate!’

There was a squeal of delight and a little girl almost tackled him a few moments later, barreling straight into his legs. ‘Hot chocolate before lunch, really?’ she asked, looking up at him with eyes wide with wonder. Harry hoisted her up and brought her in where Draco was sitting at the table looking slightly less disgruntled than when he had first come in, sipping at his hot chocolate.

‘Really, Harry replied, hip-checking the door closed and starting to peel her out of her winter-gear. ‘Even if you snowed your silly daddy, who didn’t deserve it, I’m sure.’

There was a huff from the table, but Draco said nothing.

‘Sorry daddy!’ she apologized as Harry was pulling off her boots, sounding genuinely apologetic. ‘I just couldn’t help myself,’ she then added.

‘You’re forgiven,’ Draco replied, as he always did, ‘but please don’t do it again, even if the urge is great.’

‘I promise daddy!’ she bounded to the table to give Draco a kiss on the cheek.

Harry brought the two remaining mugs into the table and sat down, happy and content in his life and all there was in it, life was good.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry heard the unmistakable whoosh of the floo from the kitchen where he was elbow-deep in dough and flour and so he just yelled. ‘In the kitchen, baking!’ to whomever had come calling.

‘Baking? This early? It’s just the third of December.’

He turned to see Draco in his kitchen doorway, looking as perfectly put-together as ever with not a hair out of place.

‘Well, I like to start early and I’m putting most of these in the freezer to defrost later, they’ll be good as fresh-baked then.’

Draco shrugged out of his tailored winter-coat and draped it over a chair as fair away from Harry’s baking-efforts as possible. Harry continued on kneading the dough, it was almost finished, which was why he hadn’t wanted to stop when he’d hear the floo. He didn’t flinch away from the hands winding around his waist from behind nor the body pressing along his back, Draco smelled good and it was lovely having him there, being so easy with him.

‘What are you making?’ Draco asked, his breath on Harry’s neck making him shiver.

‘Cinnamon rolls, I’m almost finished kneading this, so if you can just…’

‘Kneading, eh?’

‘Get your mind out of the gutter, Draco.’

‘Too late.’

‘You’re impossible, you know that?’ Harry asked, smiling as he finally felt the dough starting to not stick to his fingers.

‘I’m not owning up to that, but I do know that I would like to get you out of this apron and have my wicked way with you.’ As Draco spoke his hands wandered.

Harry gasped as Draco found what he’d been looking for. ‘Can you not wait until I’m finished with this and you can have me for the next half an hour or so?’

Draco’s hand was warm and nice and Harry wanted to just not care about his baking and do whatever Draco wanted.

‘Only half an hour?’ Draco murmured, soft and low and sultry.

‘Draco, please…’

His lover extricated himself, taking his distracting hands with him. ‘Oh, all right, but oly because I like your cinnamon rolls.’

Harry covered the bowl with a towel and washed his hand, feeling Draco’s eyes on him with every step. When he was untying his apron, Draco’s hand was there to stop him. ‘Don’t… leave it on…’ He did and Draco jerked him off right there against the counter, while they were waiting the dough to rise for baking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco is a little bit childish and three-chocolate cookies and some brandy in tea might save the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt 5. I can't feel my legs from [this prompt list.](http://lingeringmirth.tumblr.com/post/180420505887/137-winter-writing-prompts)

Draco collapsed onto the hallway floor the moment they were in from the cold winter air, just slumping down like a puppet with its strings cut, moaning pitifully. ‘I can’t feel my legs!’

Harry looked down at him, a fond smile on his lips. He was well familiar with Draco’s dramatics, had been privy to them for years now, and winter really wasn’t Draco’s season especially when the temperatures dropped below freezing like now, and with a foot of snow on top of that as well. Yet he also knew that most of the moaning was dramatics and sympathy-chasing, but Harry was willing to allow him his foibles. But that did not mean that he couldn’t tease a little. ‘You poor dear, didn’t you wear your wool socks, like I told you?’

He was rewarded with a disgruntled stare from the floor. Draco had taken off his winter boots and was fiercely rubbing at his left foot, still in his coat, scarf and knitted hat, only having taken off the boots and gloves, there were melting puddles of snow around him where he’d shaken himself. ‘Of course I wore my wool-socks!’ he wiggled a foot in affirmation and then went back to rubbing feeling back to it. ‘Do you think I’m stupid? My toes would have fallen off already if I hadn’t! Merlin’s tits it was cold!’

‘I’ll go put the kettle on, shall I?’ Harry suggested, hanging up his own coat in the rack on the wall, his own winter-boots had already been taken off and his knitted hat, scarf and gloves had been put on their place in the self. What snow he’d brought in, he’d cleared off with a flick of his wand so as to not get his own wool-socks wet, as an afterthought he also vanished the puddles around Draco, mostly to not have to hear the moaning when he stepped on a chilly wet patch later.

Draco looked up at him pitifully. ‘You don’t really love me, do you?’

‘Of course I do, you silly man,’ Harry ruffled Draco’s sticking-out hair as he passed him in the hallway on his way to the kitchen, trying to remember if they had any biscuits left or if Draco had already eaten them all, he was reasonably sure that there were still some left. ‘Now go sit by the fire in the sitting room and I’ll bring you some biscuits too.’

‘There is no fire in the sitting room fireplace!’ Draco called after him. ‘It’ll be cold there.’

‘I already built the fire in the morning, you only need to light it! Or are you too frozen to use your wand? And get up from the floor, you’ll freeze your bum off and then where’ll we be?’

Harry’s answer was a muffled grumble and the shifting noises of Draco picking himself up from the floor and, hopefully, putting his outerwear where it was supposed go. There was a chance of that happening, but from the amount of moaning and crumbling, Harry guessed that he might have to pick up after Draco, who had a bad habit of just leaving his things all over when he was in a fit of pique.

*

Draco was sitting in his chair by the roaring fire, draped in a knitted blanket, feet outstretched on an ottoman as close to the fire as was safe, toes wriggling a little.

‘You’ll burn your toes,’ Harry commented as he entered, carrying the tea-tray. He smiled when he noticed that Draco had _not_ moved his chair, which sat opposite Draco’s in front of the fireplace, as he sometimes did when he was really cross. It wasn’t that bad then, thank goodness. The little table just in reach of both chairs was of course still in place, although it never did get moved.

Draco didn’t turn but just burrowed deeper into his blanket, stretching his toes farther. ‘No, I won’t.’

‘Will too.’

‘Won’t.

‘What are you, five?’

‘Not if that prevents you from adding a little something to my tea,’ Draco glanced back at him hopefully, looking over the tray Harry as just setting down, then looking back up at Harry with a quirked eyebrow.

‘Can I get a please?’ Harry asked, even while he was already pouring.

‘Oh, can you please add a little something into my tea, oh light of my life?’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ Harry snorted, but did as Draco asked, would have done so without asking. He gave the cup in its saucer, the china was Draco’s favourite set, into the hand that stretched out from the depths of the blanket cocoon.

Draco took a sip of his tea, warming his slim fingers around the cup, he snuggled deeper into his chair and blanket with a contented sigh. ‘Mmhh, that’s better.’

‘Toes starting to melt?’ Harry asked, settling down with his own doctored tea and a ginger biscuit.

There was a moment of consideration until Draco answered. ‘Maybe. Although you might need to check later.’

‘You’re not bringing your frozen toes into bed with me.’

‘Well it’s your fault they’re frozen. “Let’s go out in the snow, it looks so lovely,” you said, “come along, Draco, we’ll only be a little while,” you said. As if!’

‘We were outside for less than an hour!’

Draco sniffed. ‘I have delicate feet.’

‘There is not a delicate bone in your body and you know it!’

‘You take that back!’

‘No.’

There was silence then, as apparently Draco couldn’t bother to argue, just snuggled deeper into his chair and his blanket reformed around him so he had a sort of hood over his head, sipping his tea until his cup was empty, then his hand shot out from under the blankets, holding out the cup for a refill.

‘Should have brought mugs,’ was all Draco said, with not even a please, but Harry still filled his cup with tea, honey and a dash of brandy. He also added a three-chocolate cookie and a ginger biscuit onto the saucer as a peace offering. It all disappeared into the depths of Draco’s blanket cocoon and Harry heard a soft contented noise as Draco bit into the chocolate cookie.

They sat in silence by the crackling fire, defrosting, and even Harry had to admit that his toes felt a bit chilly after spending almost an hour out in the snow and cold. He smiled as he bit into his own chocolate cookie, thinking about presents which were waiting for Christmas morning. Draco’s dramatics made it all the clearer that Harry had really gotten him the best Christmas present this year: a pair of sturdy dragon-hide boots with a soft wool lining with a permanent Stay Warm-charm.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is instructing Draco on the proper way to roll a rolling pin, they get distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt 46. "You have flour on your face" from [this winter prompt list.](http://lingeringmirth.tumblr.com/post/180420505887/137-winter-writing-prompt)
> 
> Unbeta'd.
> 
> Domestic fluff turned kitchen shenanigans. NSFW.
> 
> -

‘You have to roll the pin down harder onto the dough,’ Harry said where he was standing behind Draco, guiding his hands with his own. His whole body was draped along Draco’s back, familiar and firm, and distracting, ‘really push.’ Incidentally he pressed closer to Draco and there was no mistaking what the closeness was doing to him.

‘I know some other things that are hard,’ Draco muttered, noticing Harry’s body pressing quite firmly against his own, a certain part of him particularly noticeable, in fact. He pushed, although not as he’d been told, with his hands, but his hips, and not down against the dough on the table, but at Harry’s hips behind his own, pressed snug against his bottom.

They both gasped.

‘I didn’t mean…’ Harry said, but he _wasn’t_ pulling away. Instead he pushed back against Draco, in a rolling motion against his bottom, hands straying away from Draco’s arms down to his waist.

Draco’s hands had stilled on the rolling pin, the thick slab of gingerbread dough on the table was quite neglected now. ‘Oh, I do think you meant…’

Harry pushed against him, groaning. ‘We’re baking, not…’

‘Bending me over the table and fucking me?’ Draco asked, bracing himself against the table. The rolling pin, which had slipped from his grasp, was now rolling over the flour covered table top, past the gingerbread cutters and over the edge to land on the floor with a clang. ‘Oops!’ Draco exclaimed, pushing firmer against Harry. ‘Well, can’t roll without a rolling pin, can I?’

Harry moved against him, rubbing his bulge all over Draco’s bottom. He kissed Draco’s neck. His hands were at Draco’s front now, down over his matching bulge. ‘You’re insatiable.’

‘Indeed, I am,’ Draco replied, voice becoming quite breathy as Harry patted and fondled, not caring that he was most likely getting flour on his trousers, ‘can I… oh fuck, let me move.’

He was obliged and turned around in Harry’s arms, drawing him in for a kiss. Their hands fumbled with belts and zippers, pushing aprons aside and trousers and boxers down, until Draco had Harry pinned against the counter behind him and their throbbing erections pressed together skin on skin.

‘Oh fuck,’ Harry groaned, seeking purchase from the counter as Draco moved against him in a slow sinful slide.

The lump of dough lay forgotten on the table, as did the trayful of already baking gingerbread cookies in the oven, while Draco brought them both to completion right there with a frantic rhythm of cocks sliding together, breath mingling in kisses and hearts racing.

‘Mmhh,’ Draco eventually said, pressing his forehead against Harry’s shoulder, pressed against him where they were still connected, sticky and spent, ‘that was nice.’

‘You kinky bastard,’ Harry could only say, leaning heavy against the counter, that and Draco draped all over his front might just have been the only things keeping him upright.

Draco kissed him on the neck, laughter in his voice. ‘ _Your_ kinky bastard. Also, you started it.’

‘I did not.’

‘“Roll it harder. Push at it.”’

‘Those were genuine baking instructions and you know it!’

‘Well, you did rub yourself all over my backside, didn’t you? Got off on it, pressed all against me. Maybe helping me is your kink.’

Harry sought out Draco’s lips and kissed him lazy and sloppy, a breathless post-coital kiss. ‘I’ll give you that.’

‘Come here.’ Draco kissed him again, long and thorough, not caring they were standing in their kitchen with their trousers down and pressed together stickily, the rest of their clothes also in some form of disarray.

He lingered on it until both of them could smell something burning.

‘Oh, fuck, the cookies!’ Harry pushed Draco off of him and almost tripped on his pushed-down jeans as he turned to hurry towards the oven.

‘Well, don’t trip! Here.’ Draco grabbed onto Harry to keep him up, whipped out his wand and the oven door swung open and the tray full of charred gingerbread hearts floated out along with a nasty smell of burnt cookies. He hovered the tray onto the stove-top and it set down gently.

They both stared at the burnt cookies. ‘Well, fuck,’ Harry finally said.

‘Worth it,’ Draco said.

Harry turned to look at him, at his face and then giving him a once-over. He then reached out and began tugging Draco towards the bathroom, while hiking up his jeans. ‘Come on, you got flour all over your face and we also need to clean up this sticky mess.’

‘If I got flour on my face it’s all your fault,’ Draco said, but followed regardless.

‘Might be so,’ Harry conceded. ‘Now come on, we’ll clean ourselves up and then we’ll try again.’

‘Promise?’ Draco asked with a teasing wink.

*

In the end, they did manage to bake one single tray of perfect not-at-all-burned gingerbread cookies shaped like dragons. Adding frosting on them, well, that was another story entirely.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Harry and Draco walking from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt 83. "Why is it so damn cold?".

They were trudging after a gaggle of giggling students on their way back from Hogsmeade on the last weekend until the holidays and Draco couldn’t wait. He ached to have some peace and quiet, with Harry all to himself would be just the ticket, yes it would.

‘Only a week,’ Harry said beside him, like he was reading Draco’s thoughts. 

‘ _ Still _ a week,’ Draco countered, wading through the knee-deep snow, his winter cloak would be absolutely fucking  _ soaked _ after this! His legs were quite numb already after the hours spent mostly outside, observing the students, watching that they behaved and that there were no undue shenanigans. ‘A week!’

Harry’s hand squeezed his. It had taken Draco a long time to get comfortable enough to walk hand in hand where the students could see, even when everyone knew they were together, shared rooms, a name and a future. ‘But then we’ll have a week to ourselves.’

Draco shivered as a gust of wind blew snow against him, reddening his already red cheeks. ‘Brr. So cold! Why is it so damn cold?’

‘Because it’s winter and we‘re in Scotland.’

‘Why do I let you talk me into these things?’

‘Because you love me.’

Draco shivered and stepped closer to Harry, seeking out his warmth. ‘Grrmmhh.’

‘Come on, we’ll soon be at the castle and I’ll make you hot chocolate just the way you like.’

‘Promise?’

‘Always.’

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry comes home to a debate of tea over cocoa, and maybe something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt 96. "Tea is so much better than cocoa."
> 
> I'm not good at writing children's dialogue...

Harry came home to Draco and the twins sitting on the library hearthrug. All three were holding onto mugs filled with something steaming hot and were sitting in a circle around a plate of assorted Christmas cookies. There was a fire in the fireplace, candles on the sconces on the wall, bathing everything with a soft yellow glow. They made such a lovely image it made Harry’s heart ache with how lucky he was for having his family.

He leaned against the doorframe, a little hesitant of entering, lest he break the spell over the group. The girls were settled and Draco simply looked so indescribably happy, smiling widely as he made sure neither twin spilled anything on them worse than crumbs, _being a parent_. For a moment, he simply looked at his family. But his curiosity was eating away at him, so he just had to ask, even at the risk of disrupting the scene before him. ‘Are you having cocoa?’

Draco turned to him with the smile turned a touch derisive on his lips, Deirdre hauled up in his lap, now helping her with her mug. ‘Hot chocolate?’ he scoffed, turned to include both their girls, ‘are we having hot chocolate, girls? Daddy thinks that we are.’

‘Tea!’ Deirdre announced, raising her wee mug shaped like a coiled-up dragon, courtesy of her uncle Charlie, making hot liquid spill over the edge and onto the hearthrug. ‘Oops! Sorry daddy!’

Draco leaned over. ‘It’s okay, Darcy!’ He cleaned the spill with a practised quick flick of his wand, making it showy, as always, so the liquid swirled up into the tip of his wand rather than merely just vanished. This he does without Esme in his lap spilling any of her tea from her matching dragon cup.

Harry, who had pushed away from the doorway at Deirdre’s spill, now joined them on the hearthrug, looking suitably surprised. ‘Tea? Shouldn’t that be hot chocolate, that’s a good and proper winter-time drink. Your nana Weasley swears on it.’

‘No!’ Esme declared. ‘Tea is better, papa said so!’ She looked a bit worried, as she adored her nana Weasley and wanted to be just like her, but she also adored her papa, so she was clearly having a crisis of belief. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘Oh, papa said so, eh?’ Harry settled better and drew Darcy into his lap, careful so she didn’t spill any more of her tea. ‘What if daddy says that hot chocolate is better?’

‘Tea better!’ Darcy declared together with Esme.

Harry looked over at Draco fondly. ‘You posh git, getting four-year-old's to say tea is best.’

Darcy looked up at him, frowning. ‘What’s a posh git _?’_

Draco scoffed and managed to sound snootier than ever in his life. ‘Something your daddy shouldn’t say. It’s not proper. Not proper at all.’

Harry grinned, unable to help himself. ‘I’ll show you proper in a minute.’

‘Harry, behave,’ Draco admonished, ‘or else I shan’t give you your heart’s greatest desire.’

Harry’s heart leapt in his chest and he looked at Draco keenly, it couldn’t be, could it? But he couldn’t just ask, not with the girls there. He donned a casual air. ‘Yeah, and what’s that, then?’ he asked. But the words escaped him. ‘Are you?’ he asked with a desperate hope.

Draco’s eyes were mysterious and he drew something from behind his back. Harry stared at it. Then he looked back up at Draco, a little confused, he had thought that he’d been reading him right. Draco’s face gave nothing away but a playful air and smugness at having surprised Harry. ‘Here,’ Draco pushed the mug at him, ‘your beloved hot chocolate, just the way you like it.’

Harry took the mug and it was indeed hot chocolate and… there was a red candy heart floating on the surface with YES written on it in capital letters. His eyes grew misty as he looked at Draco with his secretive smiles and lovely secrets and he loved him so much, mouthing out _baby_.

‘Tea better,’ Darcy concluded, ‘tea doesn’t make you cry.’

Harry just laughed, happy, ready for another tea-loving child and future days to come.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has to take a very drunk Draco home from the Ministry Christmas party, it doesn't go quite as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt. 134. “I think i love you. Wow that sounds so cliche.”

Harry didn’t quite know why, but for some reason he ended up helping a heavily inebriated Draco Malfoy home from the Ministry Christmas party. He blamed, and later thanked volubly, Luna, who had pushed Draco at Harry and told him to take him safely home, or else, her mild threat made milder by a wink.

Drunk Malfoy was clingy and giggly, hanging on Harry like a sloth, his legs apparently made of rubber or cooked noodles, because he kept slipping on them as Harry helped him walk, leaning heavily on Harry. And he was handsy, _very handsy_. Harry wasn’t sure what to do with that, really.

‘Did you know you’re pretty?’ Malfoy asked as Harry had apparated them to the Malfoy Manor gates.

‘Am I?’ Harry asked, sounding absent, even when there was nothing to be absent about, not when Malfoy was practically draped all over him, exuding drunk arousal. And his hand was on Harry’s ass like a brand. It hadn’t started on his ass, but had just ended there, like it had been inevitable and Harry hadn’t had the heart to shake it loose.

Malfoy squeezed the bit of Harry’s ass in his grasp. ‘And gropely. Very so.’

‘Right,’ Harry was biting his cheek to not just go for it, but Malfoy was stumbling drunk and that wouldn’t be right, not right at all. It would be taking advantage because he had no idea of what sober-Draco wanted, had never been approached by sober-Draco-sodding-Malfoy. Or any man, for that matter. With a jolt, he realized that he wasn’t bother that Malfoy was a man. A very drunk, shameless man very much wanting to have sex with Harry, it seemed. ‘What’s the password for the gates?’ he asked, almost sobbing in frustration.

Hanging onto Harry to stay upright Malfoy mumbled something at the gates. There was silence. The gates did _not_ swing open to admit them. A hand squeezed Harry’s ass again. He was so gay.

‘Say it again,’ Harry prompted.

Malfoy did.

Nothing happened except that Malfoy, who he should really start referring to as Draco, shouldn’t he, sagged even more heavily against Harry’s side and his hands became even more handsy, reaching for his belt, which was no problem at all, as far as Harry’s libido was concerned. He felt like he was on the edge of reason.

Harry thunked his forehead against the lovely wrought iron gates and got zapped by the wards for his trouble. He expected something else to happen after that, from someone in the house to notice, but nothing at all happened.

‘Your parents aren’t home, are they?’ he finally asked, defeated, when absolutely no-one came.

Draco’s breath was hot on his neck, where Harry’s scarf had slipped down. ‘No. France. Next year. Back.’

Harry groaned and wished for strength and that he would have been a little less of a good person. But Draco _was_ stumbling drunk. He couldn’t in good conscience leave him to fend for himself. Or jump him, not how much he may want that. With a sigh, Harry Apparated them back to his flat, where there thankfully was a spare room that he could put Draco into to sleep it off.

‘This is not my house,’ Draco said as Harry was guiding him up the stairs and towards the guest bedroom, sounding confused but not particularly upset about the situation, feet stumbling on the steps.

‘No,’ Harry said, panting as he maneuverer the limp noodle in Draco Malfoy’s form along the corridor, ‘this is my house.’

Draco’s hands were more handsy than ever, which did not help at all. ‘You brought me home with you?’ He sounded absolutely delighted.

‘Yes,’ Harry grunted as he finally heaved Draco through the door and onto the bed, where he landed on his side, bouncing a bit.

Draco stretched on it lazily onto his back, feet dangling over the edge. ‘Ish this your bed?’

‘No,’ Harry said, trying to help Draco out of his shoes. ‘This is the guestroom.’

‘Why?’ Draco whined, ‘What are you doing with my shoes?’

‘I’m helping you with them so you can sleep this off more comfortably.’

‘I can take off them myself,’ Draco declared slurring a bit, but he didn’t do anything to help the situation along, instead laying on his feet over the made bed like a wet fish. ‘Am adult.’ His face brightened. ‘Need help with trousers.’

‘No,’ Harry groaned, ‘you’re three sheets to the wind and then some,’ Harry opined, letting Draco’s second well-tailored leather shoe land onto the floor and pushing his legs up onto the bed. As he was spreading a blanket over Draco, the inevitable happened, hands wound around his neck and he was drawn into a sloppy but enthusiastic whiskey-tasting kiss he didn’t really want to draw away from.

He backed from it with a sigh after it had gone on for longer than he should have let it, he thought. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing.’

‘I do too,’ Draco sounded adamant, even when he was blinking owlishly and was yawning quite widely now.

‘You can’t consent, you’re too drunk.’

‘Can too.’

‘Draco, let’s try again in the morning, okay?’

Draco’s eyes were wide, looking up at him and he looked almost sober, sounding unbearably vulnerable for a fleeting moment. ‘Promise?’

‘Promise,’ Harry said and wanted to kiss him again but didn’t. In that moment, while tucking a drunk Draco Malfoy in his guest bedroom bed, he realized that he might be doing it for more reasons than the obvious. He might love this man, who was the first man who had ever kissed him, and that was such a cliché, but he wasn’t sure that he had the energy to care, not being entirely sober himself.

‘Mmhh, g’night then…’ Malfoy grumbled then, sounding halfway asleep already, snoring in the next moment.

Harry went to sleep in his own bed after teeth brushing and a minor crisis about what he had just done and what he had realized about his feelings, finally drifting to sleep with a hopeful smile on his lips.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has his reasons to hate the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writte for prompt 2. "I can't believe it's already snowing."

‘I can’t believe it’s already snowing,’ Draco gasped, while looking morosely out of their bedroom window at the softly falling snow and white-covered landscape that would have had anyone else sighing at the beauty of it all. He closed the curtains with a vicious yank and stomped back to the bed.

Harry stretched on the bed, yawning so hard his jaw almost became unhinged. ‘Well, it is already the ninth, it’s allowed to now, you know?’ he opined, half-awake, forgetting about cold and pain, while Draco dove under the covers and buried himself deep.

‘No, it is _not_ allowed. Snow means cold. I hate when it’s cold, you know that.’ Draco’s voice was cutting, if muffled by their thick quilt.

Harry dug under the covers until his hands found a shoulder to grasp and use to draw Draco close him. The response to this was a grumbling huff, but Draco allowed to let himself be cuddled, possibly even sought out Harry’s warmth. ‘You don’t have to go outside if you don’t want to,’ Harry assured him gently.

Spell-damaged fingers joined Harry’s under the covers and squeezed thankfully. ‘Promise?’

Harry did what he always did, carefully squeezed Draco’s fingers in his and Accio’d an extra blanket over them both. ‘Promise. You can stay in bed all day and I’ll take care of you.’

Draco’s ‘Thank you,’ was but a soft whisper, yet Harry heard it loud and clear, like Draco heard his unspoken _always_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This became slyly angsty, I swear I didn't mean it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt 72. "Oh, wow."

Harry walked into their sitting room, intending to talk with Draco about something that fled his mind the moment he looked at what Draco was working on, his only reaction was utter, absolute awe. The only noise he could make was a surprised squeak, although he shouldn’t have been surprised, Draco did have impeccable taste.

Draco turned, hearing him come in, looking a little hesitant. ‘What do you think?’

There was nothing to do but hug him and kiss him tenderly, Harry decided, so that was what he did, with due thoroughness. ‘It looks absolutely perfect,’ he declared once he had appreciated Draco fully.

‘You really think so?’ Draco’s thin fingers fiddled with the hem of Harry’s fir green jumper nervously. ‘I haven’t…’

Harry hugged him tighter. ‘If I didn’t know this was your first effort, I couldn’t have guessed.’

Draco’s voice was soft as he snuggled into the hug, his body relaxing under Harry’s touch. ‘Thank you, love.’

And Harry wasn’t lying, the Christmas tree, their first together, and it was absolutely breath taking: thick branches neatly festooned with baubles in silver, white and blue, and star-shaped fairy-lights draped over the branches, criss-crossing with a few silver garlands, all done with impeccable taste, it was all topped with a silver dragon that periodically breathed out a plume of glittering white smoke and while it roared. Harry had never in his life seen a more perfectly done Christmas tree. ‘Absolutely perfect, as I knew it would be.’

Draco kissed him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's someone in Harry's bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt 20. "Hug me so I can get warm."

Harry woke with a start. It was the middle of the night and someone was in bed with him, had ducked through the curtains and under the covers without a sound. That someone had their arm around his middle, a palm pressed against his stomach. Someone male, because he knew he was in his dorm still, wasn’t he? He didn’t instantly panic and flail, being too tired for that, and Voldemort had never tried to kill him in his sleep so far. ‘Who’s there?’ he asked into the void, into the darkness filled with the familiar sleeping breaths of the others. The arms squeezed around him and a body pressed closer to his back.

‘Shusshhh, ‘m sleeping,’ Draco murmured against his back, barely audible. He pushed his freezing toes against Harry’s legs so he yelped and drew them away.

Thankfully, no-one woke up, although Ron turned his side with a sharp gasp and muttered something that sounded like ‘the spiders are coming, run!’ But he settled again right away with a grunt and rustle of sheets.

Harry shifted, he didn’t particularly _mind_ Draco in his bed, Draco in his bed was a good thing in his book. ‘But why are you in my bed?’ He asked in a whisper. He knew he hadn’t fallen asleep with Draco in his bed.

‘Was cold. You make warm.’

It was endearing, really, the way Draco talked when he was tired and half-awake, Harry felt privileged to know it.

‘You were cold?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘So, you came up here, all the way from the dungeons so I’d warm you up?’

‘Boyfriend,’ Draco informed him, burrowing even closer to Harry, ‘is your duty.’

‘Duty, eh?’ Harry yawned. ‘How did you pass the Pink Lady?’

There was an indelicate sleepy snort. ‘She fancies me.’

‘Of course, she does.’

‘Hug me warm, now.’

‘But then we’ll sleep.’

‘Sleep.’

So, Harry did. And they did.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is decorating a Christmas tree while Draco appreciates the view, their twins, however, prevent much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt. 56 "Can you reach that spot on the tree?".
> 
> This goes together with [this ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16790740/chapters/39647406), where Esme and Darcy originated, but is set before it.

Draco was sitting on the floor, bouncing Darcy on his. She giggled wildly, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from the bouncing movement or the sight of Harry leaning this way and that and reaching up almost on his tiptoes as he decorated their Christmas tree. Draco himself was transfixed by the sight of Harry’s behind as he stretched, denim pulled taut, yes, it was a nice sight and would have been a lot nicer if they could have done something about it. But only one of their babies was sleeping at the moment, so there was no chance of even a quick quiet fumble. Draco wouldn’t have changed their twins away for the world, but there was something to be said for disliking the effect they had had on their sex-life, which had dwindled into nothing. Yet he was adamant of appreciating this first Christmas with their own little family, of not complaining unduly over what he might be missing.

‘Are you listening to me?’

Harry’s voice recalled him from his musings over the detriment of parenthood on amorous activities and Draco realized that Harry must have been talking to him for a while without answer. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and looked at Harry, who was now perching on the stool, dangling a sparkling silvery bauble in one hand. ‘Sorry, I was… thinking.’

Harry snorted. ‘More like staring at my ass.’

He blushed and coughed, thankful that Darcy was too young to understand, he prayed she was too young to understand. Hopefully. How much could a five-month-old really understand? ‘Not in front of Darcy.’ He advised.

‘Sorry. I know, I know. But you can’t deny that you weren’t.’

‘Might have been. You _know_ full well that you have a rather shapely bottom which I’m quite partial to.’

‘It might have come up, yes.’

Draco flashed him a grin. Then he remembered that him staring at Harry’s ass probably _hadn’t_ been what Harry had been talking about before. ‘Sorry, were you asking me about something?’

‘Oh, right,’ Harry turned to the tree, pointing out a few branches quite high up, ‘do you think you could reach up there?’

Draco couldn’t help himself. ‘So, I’d have to reach and you’d get to ogle at my bottom?’

‘No, because you’re just taller.’

‘Excuses, excuses. But alright.’

They handed Darcy between them and exchanged a swift kiss, just a quick peck of lips on lips, so she didn’t get the chance to become fussy. She did go from one pair of arms to the other quite without incident and started mouthing at Harry’s jumper as he settled into an armchair to ogle and appreciate while Draco did the top-branches and put on the dragon topper, stretching more than he needed to.

When he turned, Darcy was asleep in Harry’s arms, he always gets her to sleep easily, and they share a look, Draco suspected that it had been Harry’s plan all along.

They have just put Darcy down and tiptoed into their bedroom, carefully closing the door behind them, when Esme wakes up with a wail.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harriet gives Draco a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt. 9. "I don't know what this is."

On Christmas morning, Harriet gives Draco a box closed with a big bow and a kiss. ‘Merry Christmas!’ she says, and then just stares until Draco opens it.

Draco opens it and stares at what seems to be a plastic wand of some sort, laid on some tissue paper. She takes it into her hand, noticing the rectangle shape at the other end, where there are two vertical blue lines. She looks at Harriet, who smiles brightly. ‘I don’t know what this is.’

‘It’s a muggle pregnancy test.’

Draco’s heart swells. ‘You’re…’

‘Pregnant.’

Draco kisses her, laughing with happiness, overjoyed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's baking, Draco comes to him with a fantasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt 50. "We burned it all…”
> 
> THIS FICLET IS RATED R FOR SMUTS.

Harry should have known it was a bad idea when Draco had crept up behind him just as he’d put the tray of cookies into the oven, one batch already waiting on the counter, cooling. The rest of the dough was in the fridge, the table strew with flour and cookie cutters in varied sizes and shapes, ready to be used again, the rolling pin beside them, waiting.

‘You’re all floury,’ Draco stated the obvious into Harry’s ear, pressing along his back, nipping at his earlobe, hard and wanting.

Harry just had to push back, making Draco groan, slip quick fingers at Harry’s front to unzip him. ‘Who knew baking made you this horny?’ Harry asked when Draco took hold of his cock and pressed against Harry’s ass with his own.

‘Who’s baking here?’ Draco asked, holding him in the palm of his hand, fondling him.

Harry gripped the counter’s edge for dear life. ‘Ah… pervert.’

‘If the shoe fits… although this isn’t quite what I’d been imagining, when I thought of you here, toiling away…’ He gripped Harry firmer, stroked him harder.

‘What did you think… ah… then?’

Draco pushed against him, rubbing his hardness against Harry’s ass quite unashamed. ‘That you’d be wearing only and apron and nothing more.’

Harry let his head hang down, gripped the counter harder and let Draco have at it, indulged him. ‘What would you do, if I… if I… was?’ It was hard to speak coherently when Draco was intent of driving him to utter distraction.

‘Use the baking oil as lube and fuck you,’ Draco groaned, pressing harder against Harry, gripping Harry harder, better.

‘Would you? Nothing else?’

‘Well, I might have you, mmhhh, bake with stretching you first so that…’

‘What?’

‘So that I could plug you open and…’

‘Draco…’

‘Slide right in once you’re all bent over and flaunting it…’

‘I can’t…’

‘Yeah… And I’d fuck you just like this, against the counter, I… Oh, FUCK!’

Harry came all over Draco’s hand and the counter and Draco dry-humped against his ass a few times, before he groaned Harry’s name like a swear.

They both took a few moments to catch their breath.

‘I’ll wear only the apron next time, let you even lube me up beforehand,’ Harry promised, feeling he had melted, legs still limp as noodles, a perfect post-coital heaviness spread all across his limbs.

‘Promise?’ Draco practically _purred_ against his back, breath hot on Harry’s neck and then it was his lips there, pressing a kiss.

‘Yeah… it’ll be hot.’

There was a smell of burning cookies and the smoke-alarm flickered and screeched.

‘Oh, fuck, I’ve burnt the cookies,’ Harry groaned, but couldn’t quite get up the energy to care much. It had been well worth it, after all.


End file.
